


Pressure

by fizzfooz



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Grooming, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, systemic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 20:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19911508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzfooz/pseuds/fizzfooz
Summary: This was originally meant to be a Nonconathon treat but I missed the deadline. For Saisei's prompt "teacher or trainer noncons Gladiolus Amicitia".Please heed the warnings.





	Pressure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saisei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/gifts).



Gladio was supposed to be practising with Clarus. He was always _supposed_ to be practising with Clarus but he always ended up practising alone. He threw his shield across the room so hard it hit the wall and bounced onto the training mat. He threw his sword after it, which clattered sadly to the floor. It wasn't really weighted for throwing.

Ignis would be busy. Noct was hard enough to get to his scheduled training, he wouldn't be up for an extra session. He could try and train Iris but she was way too small for the workout he needed.

He punched the head off a training dummy. Which of course was when Jared cleared his throat from the doorway. Gladio wheeled round, an apology and a promise to clear it up himself on his lips, which fell from his head when he saw the stranger standing next to Jared.

“Master Gladiolus,” Jared said, gaze sweeping over the splintered training dummy and his abandoned sword and shield. “This is Julianus Vibidius of house Augurnus. He will be taking care of your supplementary training from now on.”

Right. Of course he would. And of course Clarus couldn't even tell him that in person. Coulda saved him from looking like a brat in front of the new trainer.

Whatever. Gladio stuck out his hand. Jared melted into the background, taking care of the mess. “Pleased to meet you, Julianus sir.” Gladio was already almost as tall as Julianus, even though he looked about the same age as his dad. Gladio sized him up. He obviously still worked himself hard despite his age. He had all the muscles Gladio was still working for, one arm almost as thick as Gladio's torso. “You crownsguard?”

“Yup. For ten years now. And none of that sir business. Please, do call me Jules. Only my grandmother calls me Julianus.”

“Yes, s-- Jules. You wanna spar?”

###

Training with Jules was like training with Ignis. He was never where Gladio expected him to be, and used Gladio's own weight against him, tipping him off-balance whenever he could. On the rare occasions Gladio saw the blindsides coming, when their swords ended up locked, he couldn't match him for strength. Which was where he and Ignis differed. Ignis was lithe, strong but not as strong as Gladio. Jules could brute-force his way inside Gladio's guard. He ended up on his ass almost as often as he did when training with Clarus.

After every session, Jules would toss him a bottle of water iced over with the king's magic. “You did good, kid,” he'd say, and every time he'd run his knuckles over the back of Gladio's neck from his shoulders to his nape.

The first time, Gladio protested. He was gross. Sweaty. Even though what he wanted to say was that they weren't a touchy-feely household, and if his own dad didn't see the need for more than a handshake, Jules shouldn't either. Jules laughed it off. Told him a bit of extra sweat wouldn't hurt him. So the next time he kept quiet about it. Jules was tactile. That's just how he was.

###

Gladio got better at dodging. And at fighting dirty. What brute strength couldn't overcome, a sneaky kick could. Finally, he put Jules on his ass.

Jules jumped back up and caught Gladio around the midriff. Gladio went slack when he realised it wasn't part of the training. Hugging. He was hugging him. He dropped his weapons so he didn't accidentally impale Jules. Jules lifted him off his feet and spun him round, laughing.

“Nice, Gladio!”

He set him on his feet. Gladio took a step back in case he went in for another hug. “Yeah, thanks.”

###

“You're a very handsome boy, Gladio.”

Gladio froze in the middle of towelling the sweat off his face. Jules was usually complimentary but it was generally about his training progress. It wasn't like he never got told he was handsome. The older women at royal parties were always telling him that. It just sounded... different when Jules said it.

“Oh, are you blushing?”

He wasn't, actually. He was just trying not to look at Jules. He started when Jules' knuckles dragged up the back of his neck. Again. “Hey!” he said, jerking away. “Don't.”

“Don't?” Jules' shit-eating grin made him want to punch his head off like that mannequin. “What do you think I'm doing?”

“The-- The touching. Cut it out.”

“Wouldn't be shaping you into much of a shield if I couldn't touch you, would I?”

Gladio wanted to say that that wasn't what he meant and Jules knew it. He wasn't talking about the training. But the words snagged in his throat and before he could untangle any of it, Jules clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed. “Shaping up very nicely,” he said, sliding his hand down to Gladio's biceps and squeezing that too. “Stick with me, kid. In a few years you might be even better than Clarus.”

###

Gladio was gonna tell Clarus he wanted a new trainer. He didn't have to tell him about the stuff that made him feel weird (there was nothing to tell. It was just hugging and compliments. The adults would laugh at him.) Just that he'd outgrown Jules. He needed someone stronger. Even if Jules kicked his ass most of the time.

But even when Clarus was around, he was taking phone calls that didn't end until Gladio fell asleep. Or asking “could it wait?” and Gladio always said it could.

Gladio tried to tell Jared instead but he walked in on Iris having a tantrum and Jared was too distracted by that to listen properly.

###

When they weren't training, Gladio kept a few paces between him and Jules. Never turned his back on him. Which didn't stop Jules from sneaking into his personal space with another iced bottle of water.

“You have a girlfriend, Gladio?” he asked. “Boyfriend?”

“None of your fucking business!” Gladio roared, knocking the bottle right out of Jules' hand.

Jules' eyebrows shot into his hairline. “That's no way for an Amicitia to behave, Gladio.”

Jules took another step toward him and sheer animal instinct took over. Gladio summoned his sword and lunged at Jules. Kept lunging when he dodged. Jules didn't summon his own weapons, just kept saying words Gladio couldn't hear over the roaring in his ears, leaping all over the place until the mannequins and the weapons racks and the benches were in pieces. He couldn't stop. He knew it was crazy but he couldn't stop.

Until Clarus' voice cut through everything. “Gladiolus Amicitia!”

Gladio stopped like his batteries had wound down. His vision was fuzzy around the edges.

“I was making smalltalk,” Jules was saying. “And he went berserk.”

“Gladio,” Clarus said. “To your room. This instant.”

###

They all knew Gladio had a temper. That the first thing he did whenever anything upset him was wreck up the training room. He got a lecture from his dad about appropriate behaviour and upholding the family's great name and all the usual stuff. He got one weary look from Jared that was much worse. No one asked him what set him off. When he asked to change trainers his dad asked him if he really thought he deserved to be catered to after the way he'd behaved.

 _Yes_ , he wanted to say. But that wasn't how an Amicitia should behave either, so he kept quiet.

They made him apologise to Jules. They went back to training together. To Jules touching the back of his neck and telling him how he was really growing into his physique.

###

Jules disarmed him twice within the first few minutes of their session. And it wasn't because Gladio was distracted, or because he hadn't been practising. With Clarus sitting on the benches to observe after his freakout, he was more motivated than ever. No, it was because Jules had been going easy on him this whole time. All the progress he'd thought he'd been making was a sham.

He redoubled his efforts only to get his ass kicked again and again and again.

“I've seen enough,” Clarus said, when Gladio was disarmed again and bruised right down to his bones. He tossed Gladio a potion. Which he didn't really need. He was sore but it wasn't that big a deal. Jules had stopped short of really hurting him. “Gladio. Go and get cleaned up. I'll see you at dinner.”

###

They decided what to do about his behaviour without him. Which meant an extra training session with Jules in the evenings. In Noct's private training rooms, instead of the Amicitia manor's. Clarus told him all this over dinner.

“Why can't they be here?” Gladio said, trying to choke down food that suddenly made him sick to his stomach. Jared would be sad if he didn't finish. Not mad. Jared didn't get mad. Just sad that Gladio didn't appreciate him and damn it, he didn't mean to do everything so wrong. The Citadel was too big and too anonymous to be alone with Jules in. He needed them to understand. He needed-- “If I have to go there, that means I've gotta commute. That gives me even less time to train.”

“The supplemental lessons will take place after your training with Prince Noctis. Regis says you're welcome to stay in one of the guest rooms if you're too tired afterwards to come back home.”

“When do I get to start training, daddy?” Iris asked.

For a moment, Gladio thought he might actually be sick. What if Jules trained her? Put his hands on the back of her neck? Told her she was pretty, the way Jules told him he was handsome. The way that made his skin crawl? “I want another trainer.” Clarus' face clouded over instantly. “Jules doesn't work for me. I can't learn anything.”

“Clearly.”

Why couldn't he just explain? That Jules creeped him out. That he wasn't being a brat. “Dad. What about Cor? He was part of King Regis' retinue, right? He knows how to guard a king--”

“Cor still is part of Regis' retinue which is why he's far too busy to indulge you. Do you know how long it took us to find someone with the requisite skills to train you? How rigorous the security protocols are for such a thing?”

Not rigorous enough. “But--”

“Jared worked himself to the bone for weeks to get you these extra lessons. I did not raise you to be an ingrate.”

And that was that. If Gladio said anything else, he'd just be proving that he really was an ingrate.

###

Bruised and tired after training Noct, then getting battered up and down the training room by Jules, Gladio sagged onto the bench. The same security protocols that were meant to protect Noct meant there were no Crownsguard inside the room when he trained. No one was allowed to know what Jules was teaching the future shield, just in case they got a traitor who could come up with countermeasures. And hey, there was no need to protect Gladio. If anything happened to him, they had a spare shield ready and raring to go.

“How old are you now, Gladio?” Jules asked, coming in to run his fingers over Gladio's scalp.

Gladio jerked, shoulders bumping against the wall behind him. “Thirteen.”

“Really? They breed the shields big, huh? You could pass for sixteen, easy.”

“I'm going home.” Gladio just needed to get into the corridors where the other Crownsguard would be waiting. He shot up. He'd sprint if he had to.

Jules caught him by the arm. “Not like that, you're not. Hit the showers. You can't stink up the Citadel.”

“I got a shower at home!”

“Shields don't get to have BO. Make yourself presentable before someone important sees you.” He flung Gladio in the direction of the showers.

Hating himself with every step, Gladio hit them. At least they weren't communal, although the changing room was. Usually it was just him and Noct so that wasn't a big deal. The showers had stalls. Which suited him just fine because he didn't wanna see Noct's pasty, prepubescent butt if he could help it. Suited him even better today, because it meant he could lock it from the inside.

He still spent the entire shower tense. He was braced for a fight, facing toward the door, the hot spray doing nothing to relax him.

But Jules didn't come in. He was gone by the time Gladio was completely cleaned up.

###

For their next few sessions, Jules didn't do anything. Not even the neck-rubbing thing, even though the back of Gladio's neck prickled every time he was near. He was even starting to improve against Jules' full strength but it was by degrees. Like when he'd started his training at five. When he couldn't even lift his sword.

His frustration boiled over into working Noct even harder. Their sessions inevitably ended up with Noct telling him he was too rough, too mean, and a big stupid big-faced big jerk. But he didn't know how to restrain himself anymore. He had to keep his momentum up. Had to learn how to beat Jules.

He was fighting everyone. Most of his conversations these days ended in an argument. He made Iris cry twice and locked himself in the room for the rest of the day each time. With Jules, however, he got speechless.

“You ever kissed anyone?” Jules asked.

Gladio clapped his own hand to the back of his neck before Jules could rub it. He should have asked “What's it to you?” or told him it was none of his fucking business. Instead, he shook his head. Jules leaned over him and brushed a kiss across his cheek. Barely even counted as a kiss really. So it was stupid how he froze up. He half-turned, twisting his upper body round, to do-- something. He didn't know. And Jules planted a close-mouthed kiss on his lips.

Why? He wanted to shove him with both arms. Kick. Scream. Pull his sword out of the armiger and run him through.

But he was limp. Limbs dangling like one of Iris' ragdolls as Jules tugged him forward and slobbered all over his mouth. He pursed his lips, wincing as the tip of Jules' tongue tried to press between them. He cupped the back of Gladio's head and ran his other hand up and down Gladio's back. Like he thought this was... romantic... or something? And still, Gladio couldn't move. All the self-defence he'd been taught since he could fucking toddle and all of it was useless because he couldn't even curl his fingers.

“There,” Jules said, finally pulling away. “Now you have.”

###

Gladio was convinced if anyone so much as looked at him that they'd be able to tell what had happened. So he didn't let anyone see him. He took the spare room in the Citadel, let the maids knock and leave food outside, and tried not to turn every piece of furniture in his line of sight to matchsticks.

He couldn't skip training. Clarus would know something was up. He tried to get Noct interested in staying, watching a Crownsguard train, knowing that it would mean guards inside the training hall. But Noct threw a bitch fit about how he'd already done his training for the day.

So it was just him and Jules. Again.

“Don't,” Gladio said, when Jules leaned over him again. It came out squeaky and cracked, like before his voice broke. Jules ignored him and shoved his hands underneath his tank top, stroking over Gladio's chest and stomach. And Gladio lost his voice again.

“Some of the glaives would kill for that physique.” Jules dipped his hands lower, until his fingers slid under the waistband of Gladio's sweatpants.

He just had to scream. Then the Crownsguard outside would hear.

And they'd all see him like this. Too weak to protect himself. Too weak to protect Noct. The worst Shield ever born.

So he let Jules kiss him again. And squeeze his ass. And whisper how handsome he was while nuzzling at his neck. Gladio's throat was too locked up for him to even snarl, his thoughts replaced by white noise. Jules kept trying and trying to get his tongue inside Gladio's mouth but Gladio couldn't have opened it even if he wanted to. 

Jules skimmed his hands up and down Gladio's hands one last time. He was panting, even though Gladio felt like he couldn't breathe at all. “Good work today,” he said, like it had never happened. “But practise those shield strikes. There's no point in trying them if you can't hit the ground.”

 _Fuck you_. But Gladio couldn't say it, like he couldn't say anything else.

###

It was just kissing. No big deal. Just touching. So why did he feel like something more had been taken from him every time? Why did he scratch the back of his neck raw? To the point that it was so scabbed-over even Jules wouldn't touch it. Clarus didn't see him enough to notice. No one did anymore. He hid out at the Citadel, unable to put himself in his own bed in this state. Unable to look Jared or Iris in the eye.

“Is your neck sore? Do you want a potion?”

Noct. Fuck. He still saw Noct every week. “Psoriasis,” he said. “It'll just come back.”

“You shouldn't pick at it,” Noct said, probably repeating something he'd been told. “You'll only make it worse.”

“Shut the hell up about my neck!”

He'd screamed it. Hadn't meant to but he was so untethered from his body these days he didn't know how he was even standing upright. Noct's eyes went twice as wide and he rocked on his heels like Gladio's voice was a typhoon. Then he planted his feet, set his jaw, and stood up on his tiptoes in an attempt to look Gladio in the eye. “Gladio. What's wrong? You have to tell me.”

“I don't have to tell you shit!” Yelled at the same volume as before but it only made Noct narrow his eyes, little face hardening.

“You're only scary when something's bothering you. So tell me. I can help.”

He couldn't. Noct probably wouldn't _understand_. A ten-year-old, not even a prince, wasn't the right person to bring this to. And he might tell the king and-- What if they didn't believe him?

What if they did and they decided it didn't matter? Jules was good at his job. Most adults couldn't keep up with Gladio. That wasn't him being big-headed. Amicitias had been shields for generations for a reason. He'd outgrown most of his other trainers in a couple of weeks. That was why his dad took over in the first place. But Jules had been destroying him for-- two months now? Three? It felt longer.

“I don't wanna talk about it.”

###

This time, when Jules ordered him into the showers, he followed him. So close his toes were practically touching his heels. Gladio knew what was going to happen. Knew he should be doing anything to stop it. But his limbs went all noodly again. It was like watching a stranger's body undress and step into the shower.

Jules washed him, running a soapy washcloth over and over his body. He was naked too and it was obvious he was hard. His cock kept _touching_ Gladio when he shifted positions. Gladio was half-hard too even though he felt sick, but too scared to get all the way there. It was normal, he tried to tell himself. Sometimes he got hard for no reason at all. Jared had given him The Talk, his voice stilted and too embarrassed to look Gladio in the eye. Apparently it'd all calm down in a few years. Which was way, way too long in Gladio's opinion.

When he stepped out of that memory and back into reality, Jules was washing his cock and balls. “You're big,” he said. And Gladio flushed, embarrassed. He knew he wasn't... normal-sized. More like the porn he watched with his headphones on and his door locked than the people he'd accidentally seen in real life. Jules wrapped his hand, coated in the soapy washcloth, around Gladio's shaft. “Massive. You'll make someone very happy.”

By all rights, it should be shrinking, but he'd never had anyone else's hand there and his cock didn't care that it was Jules. He hardened fully, hips instinctively pushing forward into the grip. _No. Nononono._ Jules stroked him, the pressure just right, and he came so hard he saw spots. It only took a couple of strokes.

He realised, a couple of seconds later, that there was a damp spot on his back that wasn't from the shower's spray. Jules had come too. Onto Gladio's skin. Instinct let him do what the rest of him couldn't. He shoved Jules away and retched into the shower's drain.

###

Jules was content to wash him and jerk him off for the next few weeks. Every time Gladio caught himself in a mirror, he was amazed he wasn't more gaunt. Even if he knew that was impossible. His diet was as regulated as everything else in his life, carefully curated to his nutritional needs. But it felt like every time Jules made him come he was spilling out something vital. Like he'd end up dessicated, an unwrapped mummy on the tiled floor.

It was enough for Jules until it wasn't. Jules traced the usual path over his body, pretending to clean him up after their training. Then he veered. His soapy fingers prodded at Gladio's hole while his other hand stroked Gladio's cock. Gladio let out a strangled noise, going up on his toes to avoid him. He clamped his ass cheeks together. All of his muscles were strong, including those. Maybe he could keep him away.

“Gladio.” It was sharp, disappointed, the way Clarus said his name when he thought he wasn't living up to the Amicitia name. “We're at war.”

What did that have to do with anything? Gladio was practically climbing the shower walls, his fingers slipping on the wet tiles. He would vault right over the stall to get away from him. Hell, maybe he could. The only thing besides Jules in his life at the moment was training and exercising, training and exercising. He was stronger than ever. 

“What do you think the Niffs do to captured prisoners? Especially ones so close to the royal family.”

That topic was so far removed from what was actually happening here, Gladio couldn't parse the words.

“Torture. You should already know this. A Niff wouldn't be as nice to you as I've been and they certainly wouldn't stop just because you chickened out. You need to hold out under torture. Any kind of torture. I'm not going to torture you, of course. But it'll be easier to stand if you've experienced it before.”

Liar. Gladio wanted to scream and rage and rip the shower head out of the bracket so he could beat Jules to death with it. But... Look at all the other things shields were expected to do: train their entire lives; marry someone who could give them hardy, strong shield babies; put their monarch's needs above all others; die if it meant the king could live. All the history books were full of just that. Shields nobly dying for monarchs that sometimes did no more than warm the throne for a couple of weeks and were assassinated anyway. Always presented as a good thing. A shield who died before his king or queen was a shame to the family. Was it unreasonable that they'd expect this of him when they expected him to give everything else?

Giving in didn't make it any easier. Jules wasn't enormous but he was still bigger than him and his cock was gigantic as it nudged between his buttocks. The head dragged over his hole, hotter than the shower turned up to the max setting.

“Relax,” Jules said, like that was remotely possible.

But it must be possible. The girls in the porno he watched seemed to like it a lot and even if _he_ didn't like it, it had to not hurt at least. There had to be a way for it not to hurt. He tried. He really tried to make himself relax but forced relaxation was an oxymoron and _fuck_ he didn't want that thing inside him. The first breach was like getting hit in the solar plexus, all the air forced out of him.

Jules groaned. “Fuck. You're tight.”

Gladio pushed with his inner muscles. _Get it out. Get it out._ But now Jules was inside him, he had every intention of staying there. He rocked forward, the head of his cock spearing Gladio, who squirmed at the discomfort of it. Gladio's throat felt raw already, like he'd skipped right past screaming and come out the other side. The only thing he could force out were choked gasps. Like he'd swallowed a daemon and it was tearing him up from the inside-out, ripping at his vocal chords.

“Fuck.” Jules gripped both his ass cheeks and spread them. “Look at that tiny hole wrapping around me. So fucking hot. Best ass I've ever seen.”

 _Shut up!_ Gladio hung his head, fingers clenching on the wall he was bracing himself against. He grunted as Jules forced another inch into him.

“Can't wait to see you take all this. Gonna get you so full of cock. Spread for me.”

For half a second, Gladio thought about resisting. Then he did it anyway, pushing his legs further apart. Jules shoved into him, getting half his entire cock in there this time. He groaned again, squeezing Gladio's ass cheeks. “Gods, I'm gonna ruin you. You'll never be this tight again.”

He already had ruined him. He didn't deserve to be a shield. He didn't deserve Noct. This wasn't even painful – bruised ribs hurt more – but it was already breaking him. Jules grunted and tsked as a couple more thrusts failed to get him fully inside Gladio.

“Open up,” he said, which made Gladio clamp down even harder.

Then it did hurt. It stung. Normally something like that would be negligible but because it was his hole, burning and stinging around Jules' disgusting fucking cock it made his eyes water. Gladio tried to slide off him. He just needed a second. Half a second. Before he started thrashing like a fish on the end of one of Noct's lures.

Jules grabbed his hips and yanked him back so hard he got balls-deep in the next thrust. It shocked Gladio so much he couldn't even scream. Then he was scrabbling, consumed with the need to get it off him, get it out of him, his guts cramping violently, his throat narrowing to a pinhole. It was too fucking big and it hurt and he wanted to cry like he hadn't since his mom died.

“Settle down,” Jules said. 

How the fuck was he supposed to settle down? He'd reared up, now almost standing but with his back arched. Jules braced his arm over Gladio's chest and held him like that. He couldn't breathe. Like Jules' cock had punched a hole in his lungs. Jules tutted again and finally, fucking finally, pulled out of him.

Gladio's motor function got back into gear. It was over. He could get out. He tried to shove away from Jules but he only held on tighter.

Then he was being pushed down onto his face, his hips dragged up. It took his brain a few seconds to catch up with the new position and by the time it had Jules was already shoving back inside him. It stung just as much as before and this time he didn't bother going slowly. He jabbed into Gladio's ass, all the way from tip to root. Gladio made a strangled, dying noise as Jules' balls slapped against him.

Jules leaned over him, his chest flush to Gladio's back, and pinned his arms down. Then he started to... to fuck him... Those stinging, heavy thrusts that rocked Gladio back and forth. _Gonna get you so full of cock._ He was full. Ruined. Nothing but a sex toy, pliant and silent as ules used him. His cock was half-hard but he tried to ignore it for his own sanity. It was responding to the stimulation. That was it.

If the Niffs really did do this to their prisoners he was gonna destroy every last one of them.

At least Jules didn't last long. Just a few fevered thrusts and then his hips snapped forward, like he could possibly get even deeper inside of Gladio. Gladio scrabbled at the floor but Jules held him fast, and emptied his load into him.

“If the Niffs ever do catch you,” Jules said. “They might just keep you.”

###

_Gladio (06:00): Iggy, I need an urgent favour and I need you not to ask questions about it.  
Iggy (06:00): Of course, Gladio. I'm available at 12:00 today.  
Gladio (06:00): Needs to be just before Noct's training at 4.  
Iggy (06:00): Understood. I'll reschedule some things. Is 15:00 in my office amenable to you?  
Gladio (06:00): Perfect. Thanks, Iggy._

###

It was a lesson that had been drummed into him since he was old enough to understand full sentences. There was no use crying just because something hurt. You dealt with it, or you might as well give up on being a shield. So Gladio turned up at Ignis' office and he made himself act normal. Didn't even slam the door. 

Which didn't fool Ignis at all. “Are you all right, Gladio?”

“No questions.” Gladio's hand went to the back of his neck. Still scabbed over. “There any surveillance here?”

“I deal with far too much sensitive information for that to be the case but there are security cameras in the corridors.” Ignis' gaze swept over him. Gladio tried to project utter blankness. “What do you need from me, Gladio?”

“I need you to break my arm real bad and heal it so it sets wrong.” Gladio was wearing a baggy, long-sleeved T-shirt. It'd disguise the break until it was time. “It's gotta look like the worst, most incompetent healer ever had a go at it. And you've gotta do it with a training sword.”

He expected Ignis to argue. To protest that he might injure Gladio permanently. He didn't. “Very well. Stretch your arm out onto the desk.” 

Ignis pulled a training sword from the armiger. The motion pulled up his cuffs and Gladio saw the rings of bruising around his wrists.

“Iggy--”

“No questions, Gladio. I thought that was the arrangement.”

###

Pain lanced through Gladio's arm every time he so much as shifted, shooting from his fingers to his jaw like he'd shoved them in an electric socket. He could still move it if he ignored all that. Which he did. There was too much at stake for him to give himself away now, so he kept his face placid as he ran Noct through his training session. If Noct noticed something was up, he kept his mouth shut about it this time. He was also trying harder than last time. Not whining every time Gladio made him repeat something.

Maybe Ignis had a word with him? Or maybe he was just trying to cheer Gladio up in his own way after last time.

Once Noct had been escorted out, Gladio steeled himself for seeing Jules again. He didn't know what he'd expected. Some acknowledgement maybe? But Jules just told him to spar, like nothing had happened.

Okay. Showtime.

Jules wasn't going any easier on him. Gladio did his best between the pain in his arm and not wanting Jules anywhere near him. Then he turned to the side suddenly, letting Jules hit him in his broken arm. The strike was as loud as sonic boom.

Gladio didn't even have to fake the scream or falling to the mat. It felt like the bones in his arm had fucking exploded, splintered inside his skin like shrapnel inside a sock. He screamed and screamed and screamed himself hoarse. Kept screaming even after Jules broke a potion over him.

Jules rolled up his sleeve, gingerly inspecting the arm. Three sets of footsteps resounded over the mat. Two Crownsguard and... Noct?

“What did you do?” Noct said. 

“I thought he'd dodge--” Jules was saying but his voice was lost as the Crownsguard started questioning him.

Noct's head appeared in Gladio's field of vision. “Gladio. Your arm's all messed up.”

Gladio tried to move his fingers but couldn't. He had the insane urge to laugh. "You think?”

“It's gonna be okay.” Noct shimmied on his knees to the other side of Gladio. Noct draped Gladio's good arm over his shoulders and tried to heave him to his feet. “Dad can fix you.” Gladio slid right back down to the mat, still fighting the urge to giggle. Did Noct really think he was gonna carry him?

One of the Crownsguard detached from where he was questioning Jules. “Your majesty, you mustn't move him until the healers arrive.”

Noct pulled himself up to his full (tiny) height. “Take him to my dad. Right now.”

“Your majesty--”

“I'm your prince and I order you to.”

“At once, your majesty.”

###

Kids Noct's age always thought their dads could fix everything. It was just Noct happened to be right about this one. Gladio was still fucking high or something, fighting down bubbling laughter as Regis snapped his bones back into place. Then he healed him, eyes touched with the red glow that meant communing with the gods. Gladio's arm was good as new.

They still made Gladio rest at home for a week. Actually rest. In his bed. Which was stupid because his arm worked fine. Although he was drained. Napping for hours when usually he didn't nap at all.

Clarus perched on the edge of his bed. “I dismissed Julius,” he said. “Regis and I had a discussion and we've made some provisions. You'll be training with Cor from now on when I'm unavailable.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Gladiolus...” Clarus touched his fingers lightly to the arm that had been broken. The one Gladio kept telling Iris and Jared was _fine_ over and over again. Then he was silent for a while, hands clasped in his lap. “Be more careful, in the future.”

Gladio's throat was tight all of a sudden. “Yes, sir.”


End file.
